


The Skittish Bird

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mollcroft, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft in red speedos. I don't need to say any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Skittish Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thINKture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thINKture/gifts).



> I do not own these characters. This work is purely for entertainment. 
> 
> \---

Mycroft Holmes had fallen for Molly Hooper the moment he laid eyes on her.

Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that his stopping by the morgue those many years ago to simply give his brother's new acquaintance a quick once over would turn his world upside down.

He was only meant to make sure she posed no real and present threat to Sherlock’s newfound path on the straight and narrow. As soon as their eyes met over the recently deceased Mr Williams he was gone. 

Falling was the start but not the beginning.

Soon the negotiations with Sherlock began. Despite their outward animosity, each had great respect for the other and Mycroft needed to make sure his younger brother had not further intentions for the good Dr Hooper.

Of course, there were none, but Sherlock was a protective soul – oftentimes more so then his older brother. Sherlock wanted to make sure Mycroft’s intentions to “his pathologist” were honourable and that this was just not another one of the British Governments “flings.”

And so the weeks turned into months. Molly continued on happily with her life completely unaware of the negations between the Holmes brothers about her. 

Each kept a weathered eye on Molly. They did nothing to stop the follies she called relationships. Past performance indicated that she was not very good at choosing stable men, and as was expected most of these trysts were short lived.

Finally, Sherlock gave the go ahead: Mycroft was free to purse Molly at his earliest convenience.

//

Mycroft sighed as he looked at his watch before he took it off.

It had been six weeks of coffees, late night texting, dinners and even the occasional DVD on Molly’s sofa.

Sadly what neither brother had taken into account – not being particularly well versed in relationships – was the extent of the scars Molly had incurred during her string of failed relationships that they had unwittingly allowed to happen.

Poor little thing was a skittish as a bird. One evening when Mycroft tried to put his arm around her during the Game of Thrones DVD, she almost flew across the room.

He would admit he was playing the long game and patience was a virtue but at the end of the day he was still a red-blooded man. The only things he had to show after six weeks of iron restraint were the ability to give her a small kiss on the cheek goodnight and tuck her hand under his arm when they were out walking.

That was it. And he was about to explode. 

Luckily it was Valentine’s Day and he had a plan.

Once again looking at his watch, Mycroft slipped his robe off and got into his pool.

//

Molly, dressed in the elegant evening dress Mycroft had sent over earlier in the week, arrived at his house at 6pm. Despite the help from Anthea, she was still slightly self-conscious and worried. It was Valentine’s Day and knowing Mycroft, he had something up his sleeve that involved huge bouquets of flowers and a very expensive dinner – if she was lucky. His jet and at least two bottles of vintage champagne, if she was unlucky.

Not that she wasn’t interested in Mycroft Holmes. She was … It was just … She knew she wasn’t any good at relationships and she really didn’t want to mess this one up. Better safe than sorry. Best take things slow was her new motto.

She nervously smoothed down her dress as Mycroft’s housekeeper opened the door for her.

“Oh. Hello Mrs. Lockwood. Mycroft is expecting me.”

“Of course he is, Molly dear. Let me take your coat,” Mrs. Lockwood took her coat and quickly hung it up in the cloak room. “You look wonderful if I do say so myself, dear. I am sure the two of you will have a lovely Valentine’s Day.”

“Do you know what he is planning?” asked Molly nervously.

“Me? Heavens no! There are some things that Mr Holmes likes to keep to himself. If you would like to follow me.”

Molly became slightly worried as she followed Mrs Lockwood past both the sitting room and the conservatory further into the house than she had been before.

Stopping at a door Mrs Lockwood turned to Molly and smiled. “Here we are.” Mrs Lockwood was gone before she could ask any questions.

Taking a deep breath Molly turned the door handle and pushed. As the door opened, she was hit with a blast of humid air, the smell of chlorine and the sound of someone swimming laps.

//

After hearing the door open Mycroft glanced at the clock on the wall just before he did his next tumble turn. Right on time, he thought.

As he travelled down the pool doing the front crawl, he turned his head to watch as Molly followed him along the edge of the pool, her high heels clicking on the stone floor.

When he had picked the dress out, he had no idea she was going to be this stunning in it. He was very glad he had turned down the water temperature today or else there would be no chance of this working.

Molly took her place at the end of the pool and stood with her hands on her hips as she watched Mycroft do a perfect tumble turn at her feet and then proceeded to butterfly back to the other side of the pool.

Watching his toned shoulders pulling his body out of the water made her gasp. This is not at all what she had ever expected from Mycroft Holmes.

After a tumble turn on the far side of the pool, Molly was somewhat shocked and worried that Mycroft seemed to have vanished. She was just about to jump in and save him when he elegantly popped up right again at her feet, and even though he had swum 25 meters underwater, was not at all out of breath.

“What in the world are you doing?” asked Molly with a grin.

“Isn’t is obvious, Miss Hooper?” Mycroft managed to elegantly remove himself from the pool. “I believe it is called ‘working out.'”

All 6 feet 3 inches of Mycroft Holmes was standing in front of Molly, soaking wet and wearing only the smallest of red Speedos. Unconsciously, her tongue darted out and licked her lips.

Seeing his toned form, all Molly could do was stare at the sculpted definition that was completely unexpected in someone who sits behind a desk all day.

“But you … You aren’t fat!” was all Molly could exclaim, still wide-eyed.

Mycroft gave a small chuckle. “No Molly, I am not fat. But I am getting slightly chilly. Would you be so kind?” He gestured to the stack of thick fluffy white towels folded on the bench behind her.

“Oh! Sorry”

She shook her head and quickly turned to get a towel which gave Mycroft an excellent view of her backside. Thankfully he regained his composure as the towel was handed to him.

“But Sherlock always teases you about being fat,” she pointed out. She was careful to not be too obvious as she swallowed hard, her eyes darting over Mycroft's chest and his auburn chest hair. 

"I'm sure your sibling has an outdated nickname for you." Mycroft was drying each ear thoroughly as he watched Molly watching him. 

"He calls me Molly-Moo-Spotty-Poo," she replied distractedly, her gaze was now on Mycroft's abs and she felt her skin grow hotter by the minute. 

A soft chuckle came from Mycroft as he finished drying his left ear. "And how long has it been since you had a spot that could be seen from the International Space Station?"

"15 years," came the quiet reply. Molly licked her lips – her gaze had fallen to the bulge in the red Speedos. Very visible. Very … She tried to banish the thought.

Mycroft buried his face in the towel in hopes that his body wouldn't betray him. The weight of Molly's stare was almost unbearable. 

"I’m sort of over-dressed for a pool party. I thought we would be having Valentine’s Day dinner somewhere."

"Oh we are. I'm just running a bit late. You can thank the Greeks." 

Molly gasped as Mycroft flexed his leg, bending over to dry it. "Ah. What time is dinner?" 

"Don't worry. I have pushed the reservation back to 7:30p. We have plenty of time." He remained bent over to dry the other leg.

"What time will we get to bed?" As soon as the words left her mouth Molly's cheeks burned. Silently Mycroft cheered. "I meant to say, what time will we get home." Molly stammered. 

Taking a deep breath to keep his composure, Mycroft make a humming noise to cover it up.

"Hmmmm let's see ... Tasting menu at the Fat Duck ... Generally takes three to three and a half hours ... Then the drive home. I should guess I will have you tucked up into your bed by 12:30am at the latest."

"I can't wait that long," gasped Molly followed again by blushing and fumbling. "I mean, I don't think I can wait that long to eat. I haven't eaten very much today. I am ... was ... nervous." 

"Nervous? It's just dinner. Molly, could you turn around please," asked Mycroft calmly. 

Hesitantly Molly did as he requested. When she heard a trickle of water behind her, she instinctively turned her head to see Mycroft, with the towel now around his waist, wringing the water out of his red Speedos into the pool. 

"Oh. Oh .... Oh. I'm not sure I'm going to make dinner." Molly began to sway and instantly Mycroft was by her side. 

"Oh good heavens," Mycroft sounded concerned. He laid his lips on her forehead. 

"What are you doing?" whimpered Molly. 

"Checking to see if you have a fever. Lips are the most sensitive part of the body. I shouldn't think I would need to tell you that, Dr Hooper." 

Molly's only response was to make small gasping sounds. 

"Perhaps you should lie down while I finish getting ready. Do you think you can walk to my bedroom or should I carry you?"

Honestly, Mycroft hadn't meant to whisper it in Molly's ear. 

Halfway up the stairs, watching the flex of Mycroft’s gluteus maximus under the white towel as he led the way, Molly regretted not taking him up on his offer to carry her as she began to question her ability to remain upright much longer. 

As if he could read her mind, Mycroft scooped Molly up as soon as she reached the landing and carried her the short distance to the master bedroom. 

Placing her gently on the bed, he smiled down at her. "Tell me. What do you need?"

"You," Molly pulled Mycroft towards her and into a passionate kiss. 

The white towel ended up on the floor less than a second later.

//

"Feeling better?" Mycroft was trying not to laugh out loud at the beautiful but completely dishevelled Dr Molly Hooper splayed out on his bed. 

"Boy did I need that," Molly was still gasping for breath. "Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Are we too late for dinner?"

"Afraid so. It's not even Valentine's Day anymore.”

"Does this mean you will end up on some restaurant blacklist because we were a no-show?"

Mycroft's reply was interrupted as a text arrived. He picked up his phone from his bedside table.[SMS: Thank you for the table. The boyfriend and I enjoyed ourselves immensely. Hope your evening worked out as planned! Let's hope the Greeks behave themselves for the rest of the weekend. See you Monday. -A]

"Oh. Don't worry. It will be fine. Did you say you were still hungry?” With a smile, Mycroft pushed himself over to Molly and began to nibble her ear.


End file.
